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Poetry Month: Day Eight

Since I’m so late, here’s one from the Poems Written in Early Youth section of The Complete Poems & Plays of T.S. Eliot. You can find this section hiding at the very end of the book. And you will find it because just about everybody knows somebody with this edition.

Song
If space and time, as sages say
Are things that cannot be,
The fly that lives a single day
Has lived as long as we.
But let us live while yet we may,
While love and life are free,
For time is time, and runs away,
Though sages disagree.
The flowers I sent thee when the dew
Was trembling on the vine
Were withered ere the wild bee flew
To suck the eglantine.
But let us haste to pluck anew
Nor mourn to see them pine,
And though the flowers of life be few
Yet let them be divine.

Love this post especially One of those thelshords you step over when you become agented and sold is that your writing changes in some imperceptible way. For me it happened when I stopped trying to write like the books I was reading, the ones that presented history as something trapped in a prim, timeless amber and not restless and churning and alive. Now I kinda have a crush on you. ❤